


One More Chance XXXIII

by DancingHare



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 07:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13608207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingHare/pseuds/DancingHare
Summary: Istahn prepares to make his move.





	One More Chance XXXIII

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published January 15, 2009

It was nearly time. Such a thing couldn’t be rushed, it had to be just the right moment, and now Istahn could afford the luxury of waiting. The avalanche, while not his work, had neatly handled the issue of the tenacious chaperone. He’d lost track of the scruffy kaldorei somewhere in the rush of snow, but he couldn’t say for certain where he was. Beneath the snow, he would cause no more trouble, but if he had found safety… Istahn perched atop the ledge that overhung the cave entrance, listening to the sounds of the night. Beneath the cover of darkness, the gristly, chewing sounds of the risen far below them reached his thin ears, and somewhere far off came the guttural roar of some beast. He could hear the steady rhythm of her breathing, no more than a murmur, but it was there. She must be cold, huddled alone in the darkness with nothing more than the spiders and bats to keep her company, and Istahn envied her that, a little. He wasn’t cold, in fact he felt very little at all since they’d found him in the Ghostlands. It was simply part of the price he had paid, but Istahn was certain that he had struck a good bargain. He shifted his position atop the rock, dislodging a stone. So much mana that he could almost taste it upon his tongue, maddeningly close.

His hand went to his pouch, seeking the little leather-bound book there, letting the worn binding fall open to its usual page. The slender, bony fingers traced along the small lines of print there — too dark now to read, but he knew the words. He no longer thought much about the stranger’s hand that had been grafted to him by his former masters; who it once belonged to, the odd feeling of detachment or revulsion when he looked at it. Another price, this one more steep, but it was still fair, Istahn would say.  _Your glory shines upon this land, through the night hours of this darkened place._  A single candle flame amid the darkness, he had been drawn like a moth into her light. A light that soon would be transformed, as he was, into a terrifying force of destruction. How far she would fall, and how many she would drag with her — he dared not even imagine the havoc she would wreak at his command. She had strength, that was certain, but she must be shown how to wield it, and once dawn came, her training would begin.


End file.
